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FAITH

“Y es, we’ve been texting,” I tell April over the phone the next day. She’s on speaker with her boyfriend, Morgan, and they’re both chiming in as we catch up. “It’s wild. I feel like he’s opened up a different part of me.”

“Like what?” April teases. “The sexual part?”

I laugh. “Oddly enough… no. We haven’t even talked much about sex.”

“She’s lying,” Morgan cuts in. “There’s no way you meet a guy at a sex club and don’t sext.”

“I swear! I mean, he did send me a really hot selfie…”

“Oh, I think I need to see this,” April says immediately.

“Yeah, send it over,” Morgan adds. “Strictly for scientific purposes.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Send and delete! Promise!” April begs, laughing.

Still grinning, I give in and send the photo Thor texted me yesterday.

There’s a beat. Then April practically gasps. “Dear God, woman. That would make me weak. Okay, deleting—before I get in trouble.”

I laugh. “So yeah…no sexting. Just gardens.”

“Wait—gardens?” Morgan says. “Like actual gardens?”

“Oh yeah. We talked about soil types and favorite vegetables for like five hours.”

“Damn,” he mutters. “This guy’s playing the long game.”

“I mean…I wouldn’t mind talking about sex,” I admit. “I just don’t want to be the one to bring it up. That feels…forward.”

Morgan scoffs. “Live a little, Faith.”

April’s quiet on the other end for a beat, then chimes in. “Girl. When in Rome…”

“What have you got to lose?” Morgan adds. “Seriously. If the vibe’s right, go for it.”

“I just don’t want to move too fast.”

April’s voice softens. “Faith, there’s no rulebook. Morgan and I had a one-night stand. Now we’re planning a wedding. Every story’s different. Just…follow the spark.”

I pause, glancing at my phone.

Maybe I will.

Maybe I already have.

* * *

That night, after my parents go to bed, I pour myself a glass of wine.

Okay. Two glasses.

And a half.

I’m in the tub when the text from Thor comes through, warm buzz humming beneath my skin.

Thor: Hey Luna. Been thinking about you today

A rush of boldness courses through me.

Luna: Oh? Tell me what you’ve been thinking about.

Thor: I would, but it’s Sunday… and my thoughts about you have been very unholy.

Luna: How unholy are we talking?

Thor: Like… six rosaries and an Our Father. Maybe throw in a few Hail Marys for good measure.

Luna: Sounds like you need confession.

Thor: Nah. I really like you, Luna. So I’m pretty sure these thoughts are God-approved.

Luna: You do? But you barely know me.

Thor: And the more I do, the more I like.

Luna: Tell me one thing you like about me.

Thor: I like that you garden. Do you talk to your plants, or nah?

Luna: Sometimes. If you speak nicely, they grow better.

Feeling bold, I snap a quick photo — just my toes peeking out from the bubbles — and hit send.

Thor: Jesus, Luna. You’re killing me…

Luna: With just my toes? You’re easy.

Thor: Immaculate toes. You ever thought about doing OnlyFeet? Word is you can make a killing.

Luna: Lol. I’ll look into it.

Thor: So is the tub a nightly thing, or just something special for me?

Luna: Let’s be clear, Thor — you texted me. But fine, yes. I like hot baths. You?

Thor: You need company or something?

Luna: How about a photo instead of what I’m missing?

Thor: Haven’t you stared at the last one enough?

Luna: Maybe I’d like something more. And when I say maybe… I mean I absolutely would.

There’s a pause. My heart beats a little faster.

Thor: Fine. Since you asked so nicely…

A photo comes through.

I bite my lip as I open it. He’s reclined on a dark gray couch, the warm light casting shadows over his sculpted abs and the strong cut of his shoulders. The camera angle’s just high enough that I still can’t see his face, but low enough that I get a peek of the waistband of his boxers, riding low on his hips. The definition in his arms alone could have me writing sonnets. Or losing all sense of shame.

Thor: This better hold you over.

Luna: You're cruel.

Thor: You’re insatiable.

The bubbles around me shift slightly as I stretch my legs, one thigh slipping out above the waterline. An idea hits me, bold as the wine humming in my bloodstream. I lift my phone, angle it just right, and snap a shot — one long, wet leg arched out of the bath, bubbles clinging to my skin. The edge of my thigh is nearly fully exposed.

I send it. Just that. No caption. Let it speak for itself.

The typing dots appear immediately.

Then they stop.

Then start again.

Thor: Jesus, Luna.

Another pause.

Thor: I’m…getting hard.

Heat blooms low in my stomach.

Luna: Just from a leg? I guess it really doesn’t take much with you.

Thor: You have no idea what that picture is doing to me.

Luna: Then show me.

There’s a beat. No typing. I wonder if I pushed too far.

Thor: You sure? I told you, I’m not a snap-and-send kinda guy.

Luna: I’m not a snap-and-send kind of girl. But here we are.

Another pause.

Thor: Fuck, Luna… this is bad. But I want to. I think I’ve got a little exhibitionist in me. I’ll show you. But first, I have a question if you’ll indulge me.

Luna: Ask anything.

Thor: After that night at the club… did you fantasize about me?

Luna: Every night since. Did you think about me?

Thor: Every night. What did you imagine?

Luna: Your lips on my neck… whispering the filthy things you’d do to me. Your hand between my thighs. Would you say really bad things, Thor?

My hand slides between my legs, aching.

Thor: Is your hand there now, Luna?

Luna: Mmm…

Psychic. The man is psychic.

Thor: You thinking about my lips… or my cock?

Luna: Your cock. How full you’d make me feel…

Thor: You mean this? I wonder how you’d feel riding it…and I’m only sending this because you asked so damn sweetly.

The photo comes through, and this time, I actually gasp.

It’s him. Laying back now, boxers gone. His hand is gripping the base of his cock — thick, hard, long enough to make my mouth go dry and every thought in my head vanish. His abs tighten in the shot, the muscles low on his hips flexed. He’s fully, gloriously hard. And the angle? Strategic. Wicked.

Luna: Oh… my… God.

Thor: Is that a good reaction or a bad one?

Luna: That’s a ‘please excuse me while I melt into my bathwater’ reaction.

Thor: I told you… you’re doing things to me, Luna.

My hand slides back between my thighs, heat building quickly.

Luna: What are you thinking about right now?

Thor: You. That leg. That bath. My hands on your thighs. My mouth on your neck. My cock sliding inside you slow.

A soft moan escapes me. I can barely text with one hand.

Luna: Say more.

Thor: You want more? You have no idea how badly I’d bend you over the side of that tub and make you beg for it.

My hand moves faster.

Luna: I’m touching myself now.

Thor: You touching yourself while you look at me?

Luna: Yes. Fuck.

Thor: Let me see you, Luna.

Luna: Now? Or in real life?

Thor: Both.

Heat pulses through me. I shift in the tub, angling the camera with careful precision. The photo I take shows the slope of my breasts, the line of my legs, toes poking through the foam—most of me hidden by bubbles, but not all.

I hit send.

Thor: You’re killing me… when can I see you in real life?

My breath catches. I slide the bubbles aside, revealing my stiff, aching nipples. Snap. Another photo. My heart thrums wildly as I send it.

Thor: Fuuuuck. I’m stroking myself. Thinking of those perfect nipples. You’re a fucking dream, Luna.

Luna: Do you want to take me on a date, Thor?

My fingers work faster between my legs. My body hums with urgency. I bite down on my bottom lip and close my eyes, picturing his hands, his mouth, his weight pressing into me.

A voice message comes in.

Thor (voice): I wish it was my cock fucking you right now, Luna.

The sound of his voice—husky, thick with want—makes me moan out loud. I slip a second finger inside, hips rocking.

Thor: I want to make you come all over me. Feel your body lose control.

Luna: God...

Thor: I want to take you rough. Like that couple at the club. Bend you over, fuck you in front of everyone.

Luna: That’s so fucking hot.

Thor: Would you like that? Everyone watching me own you?

Luna: Oof

Thor: I’m going to explode. I wish it was inside you.

That’s it.

My orgasm crashes through me, a hot, rushing wave of pleasure that leaves me gasping, breathless, undone. My fingers still, my spine arches, and every nerve in my body lights up like fireflies.

I sink back into the water, trembling through the aftershocks, heart thudding, body singing.

Then another message buzzes through:

Thor: I need to see you. Tomorrow?

Luna: I’m busy tomorrow.

Thor: Doing what?

Luna: Starting a new job. But we could meet after my shift?

Thor: Where?

Luna: Holloway’s Hideout.

Thor: Really? You’re working for that guy? I hear he’s a real bastard.

Luna: You’d be correct.

Thor: You free after your shift?

Luna: Yes.

Thor: Perfect.

Luna: Where will we meet? How will I know it’s you?

Thor: So impatient. You know my voice, don’t you? I’ll find you.

I sink deeper into the bath, water slipping over my skin like silk. My pulse is still fluttering.

I just came harder than I ever have in my life.

Over a man whose face I’ve never even seen.

I think it’s safe to say…

My Rumspringa has officially begun.

With a man whose name I don’t know.

Whose face I haven’t seen.

But that voice…

God help me. That voice.